The morning dawned colder than usual, the kind of chill that seeped straight into your bones despite the sunlight glinting off the snow. Holly sat at the small desk in her lodge room, staring blankly at the open notebook in front of her. The words she’d been trying to write—her plans, her goals, her next steps—remained elusive, tangled in the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed her since her fight with Jack.
The room felt suffocating. Her thoughts churned endlessly, replaying his words, her own, the look on his face when he’d accused her of not letting go of Lucas. She’d wanted to scream at him, to shake him, to make him understand how much his lack of trust hurt her. But instead, she’d walked away, leaving behind her anger and a piece of her heart.
She closed the notebook with a sig
